


In the Air

by allstring



Category: Jesus Christ Superstar - All Media Types
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-03
Updated: 2018-02-03
Packaged: 2019-03-12 22:26:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,165
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13556862
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/allstring/pseuds/allstring
Summary: A Roman ambush keeps the Apostles in their camp, giving them some much needed rest. Judas and Jesus end up spending the day together, but Judas can't shake the feeling that something is about to happen.





	In the Air

Today feels like the start of something, at least to me. Though it’s an average day for our little band of misfits, the air seems almost electrically charged as soon as I wake up. 

Nobody else seems to feel it, or if they do, they aren’t letting on. Mary smiles at me as I sit down at the campfire, and I nod back. I long ago accepted that Jesus deserves someone pretty and attentive, and Mary fits that role to a T.

There are some days where I almost forget I love Jesus, but then he’ll do something small like touch my arm or give me a little smile and I’ll fall all over again. He tells me he loves me, but what does that mean? He loves everybody; at least, that’s what he preaches.

Someone has made eggs, and I scoop some onto my plate, grabbing a few pieces of bread and setting them on the grill to toast. I’m homeless by choice, but I never feel the call to return back to my previous life. My home is with these people, my heart is with their message. Who needs an empty house?

Jesus puts a hand on my shoulder to steady himself as he sits down, startling me out of my thoughts. I look at him, smiling just a little. He smiles back, taking one of my pieces of toast off the grill. But I’m not angry. No, never with Jesus. Just... frustrated.

“What’s on the agenda today?” I ask him between bites. He pulls out his phone, checking his messages.

“No protest, but I’m sure you heard that. We got the tip that the Romans had set up an ambush for us.” He picks up his fork, stares at it for a moment, then sets it down again. “... I don’t know what we’ll do today. The fliers are already printed, everybody’s ready to go, but there’s no protest.”

“Maybe we’ll finally get the day off,” I muse, tearing a piece of bread off with my teeth. Jesus looks at me strangely.  
“You think?” I nod, swallowing.

“Yeah, why not? We’ve been prepping for weeks for this thing; why not take a day to ourselves?” Jesus is nodding slowly, a smile spreading on his face. Mary glances up as someone calls her name, rising to meet them. Jesus watches her go with an impassive expression.

“So... what do you want to do then?” he asks me, making me choke on my eggs.

“You want to hang out together?” I ask, incredulous. I had been planning on staying at camp today, maybe doing some carving, but a day with Jesus was too good of an opportunity to pass up.

“Yeah, of course! We haven’t had time to talk in ages,” he says, smiling at me in a way that makes my heart pound and my head spin. “We could go walk downtown, maybe.”

“Actually,” I say, the sketchy details of a date forming in my head. No, not a date, I tell myself. Don’t get ahead of yourself. “I was thinking maybe we could just hang out in the garden today? You know I’m not a very... social person.” Jesus is nodding enthusiastically, a grin breaking out on his lips. 

God, he’s pretty.

“Yeah, that sounds perfect.” He pauses, his eyes lighting up. “We can pack a lunch!” I nod, my mouth suddenly dry. Now I have to prepare for an entire day with Jesus. But maybe it will be different, I tell myself. Other people drain me, but he almost seems to... charge me.

I finish my breakfast, standing and offering Jesus a hand up. He takes it, and I try not to think about what it would be like to hold his hand whenever I wanted. We walk back to the tents together, simply enjoying each other’s company. Or at least I am.

“I’ll meet you at your tent, okay?” he says. I nod, shoving my hands in my pockets as we part. Maybe I’ll bring my knife, find a good branch, and do a life-carving of Jesus at Gethsemane. Is life-carving a thing? Whatever, I’m going to try.

My tent is small and modest, but not without its personal touches. I’ve crafted a full set of Apostle carvings over the years, and now I’m focusing on carving the transients that leave and join our group at will. There are a few that keep coming back, so I’m starting with them because their faces are easier to remember.

Of course, I have dozens of carvings of Jesus, but only the best one is on display with the rest of the Apostles. The rest are either hidden or used as kindling when no one else can see. It’s kind of therapeutic, actually, throwing the little effigy into the fire whenever he pisses me off. Probably not healthy, though. Suddenly, someone rustles the outside of my tent, nearly startling me out of my skin.

“Judas? Are you almost ready?”

“Yeah, just come in,” I say before I can stop myself. People don’t tend to hang out in each other’s tents unless they’re sleeping together, as there’s barely enough room for one. Jesus unzips the front, crouching to get inside.

“Oh, your carvings! Have you finished all the Apostles yet?” I nod, smiling quietly.

“Yeah. I’m actually kinda proud of them.” Jesus kneels next to them, examining each one in turn. All of a sudden, his brow furrows.

“Judas, I don’t see one of you.” My breath catches in my throat. Damn, he noticed.

“Well... I don’t have a mirror, so I can’t really carve myself if I don’t know what I look like,” I explain weakly. Jesus is looking at me strangely, like he’s either going to punch me or kiss me. Hopefully it’s the latter, but I wouldn’t be surprised by the former. 

I can pinpoint the exact idea when the idea forms in his head - his eyes betray him.

“Maybe I can carve you! I’ve always wanted to learn how.” Oh God, there goes my heart again. Does he realize just how much he affects me? Definitely not, I conclude.

“... Sure, I can try and teach you. But let’s go to the garden first.” Jesus nods, helping me out of my tent. We chat amicably as we walk to Gethsemane, but the electric charge is still in the air. Something is going to happen, and I don’t know if I’ll like it.

\---

“So, how do I hold the knife?” Jesus asks, uncomfortably close to me. God, his head is practically on my chest. I take the knife from him, showing him the correct way to hold it and handing it back to him. After he fumbles with it for a moment, I sigh, putting my hand on his and guiding the knife into the right position.

If I didn’t know better, I could swear Jesus is purring.

“Oh, I see,” he says, finally moving his fingers into the correct position.

“The most important part about carving is control. If you don’t have control, you’ll cut yourself and your carving will turn out like shit.” I pick up a branch and take the knife from him again, showing him how to strip the bark off without biting too deep into the wood underneath. He watches attentively and I feel myself blushing; I’ve never had an audience before.

“How long have you been carving, Judas?” he asks, dangerously close to resting his head on my shoulder. 

“Ever since I was young,” I reply, losing myself in the familiar act of carving. Tiny curls of wood fall away as I work, and Jesus periodically brushes my legs off for me. “I used to sell them, try to make some extra money, but... now I just keep them to myself. It’s the one pretty thing I get in my tent, you know?” Jesus nods.

“You’re really talented, though. I don’t think I’d have the patience for something like this.” Jesus’s familiar face is beginning to take shape in the wood under my knife.

“Yeah, well, sometimes I don’t have anything else to do, so I just carve. As long as you have a sharp knife and some wood, you can do it anywhere.” Jesus is looking up at me, his stunning eyes sad for some reason. Did I do that?

“Judas, is it okay if I ask you a personal question?” he asks quietly.

“Shoot.” He takes a breath.

“Do you want to be an Apostle anymore?” The knife slips in my hands, nicking my thumb. I wince, sticking it into my mouth to numb the stinging.

“What makes you think I don’t? I help out, don’t I? I organize protests, I look after the money, I help people. Just because I’m antisocial doesn’t mean-”

“Is it me, Judas?” Jesus asks, and I know that I can’t tell him anything but the truth.

“It’s... partly you. I just feel like I bring you down whenever I’m nearby, so I stay away. You always look so happy with Mary, and all I ever am is a pessimist, I just ruin the mood.” My throat is getting tight, but there’s no way in hell I’m going to cry. “Sorry, but that’s the truth.”

“Judas... I wish you had told me about this sooner.” I scoff, fighting the feeling of bile rising in my throat.

“Oh? Why? So you can let me down gently? I know you and Mary-” It takes me a second to register that Jesus is kissing me. Oh my God, Jesus is kissing me. And it’s everything I’ve ever wanted.

I put a hand in his soft, pretty hair, trying to control myself, to pace myself, but it’s so goddamn hard when your daydreams are coming to life. Jesus pulls away first, searching my eyes for any hint of discomfort.

“How was that?” he asks, timid for the first time since I’ve known him.

“Great. Good. Wow,” I say, though none of those words are enough. Jesus smiles, his cheeks flushed, and I think I could die right here and be content.

“I wasn’t sure how you’d... Do you feel the same way?” I nod, still a bit dazed.

“I don’t understand. Why me? Why now?”

“Don’t you see, Judas?” he asks, smiling. “It’s you. It’s always been you.” I take his hand. He takes mine. “I thought you were starting to drift away from me. I thought I’d never get the chance to tell you how I feel.”

“And how do you feel?” I ask, my heart in my throat. 

Jesus is looking into my eyes as though there’s something there. But maybe he can see something I can’t.

“I love you, Judas. I’ve told you that before. But I don’t think you... or I... realized just how much until now.” I grin, wrapping an arm around his waist to pull him closer. His mouth is hanging open in an incredibly endearing way. “You need to smile more often, Judas,” he says, leaning in to kiss me. “My Judas.” 

And it happens; my heart explodes. Never in a million years would anyone have ever guessed that things would have turned out so perfectly, yet here we are. And it probably won’t be perfect, but at least we’ll be together. And I think I can handle whatever life has to throw at me as long as he’s by my side, his hand in mine.

Jesus rests his head on my shoulder - as I was hoping he would.

“Finish your carving,” he urges, picking the knife up and placing it into my hand. I notice with a small spark of shock that my thumb is healed. Did he do that?

\---

It takes some doing, but I manage to turn the carving of Jesus into something that somewhat resembles myself. Jesus keeps holding it up to my face and smiling, comparing our features. Apparently, I have a very attractive facial structure, whatever that means.

As we reach camp, the sun just beginning to set, Jesus follows me to my tent, hesitant.

“... I’ll have to tell Mary. I hope she’ll understand.” I nod, unzipping my tent.

“I think she will. It might take her some time, but she will.” Jesus smiles gratefully, crouching down to enter my tent as he did so many hours ago. He watches approvingly as I set the carving of myself amongst the other Apostles, but pushes me aside to reposition it.

“You should be at my right hand, Judas,” he says, setting the carving there. I lean up, kissing his cheek. He holds me there for a bit, then leaves me with a kiss of his own and a loving look in his eye.

I roll onto my sleeping bag, sighing. The electricity is no longer in the air; rather, it’s coursing through my veins, sending sparks out of my fingertips. I feel strong, powerful, alive. If this is what love is like, I don’t know why I ever tried to fight it.


End file.
